


in terram bonam

by Koraki



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koraki/pseuds/Koraki
Summary: The bishop of Digne goes for a walk.
Relationships: Conventionnel G./Charles-François-Bienvenu Myriel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	in terram bonam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



> Thank you so much for requesting this relationship; I only wish I had the time to really do it justice! <3 Canon divergent only in the sense that G isn't dead, yay.

Once a letter or two had been sent, and the secretary received, and another few letters gathered and read, and the ill and the bedridden visited in their rooms at the hospital, and some small matters taken care of in the town, Monsieur Myriel turned back toward his home; a group of children surrounded him as he went back through the town and attended him all the way there, then dispersed with his blessing. He ate his lunch in quiet. When he had finished he put on his overcoat once more, gathered up his cane, and collected the basket of bread and meat and fruit that Madame Magloire had prepared at his request. 

Out past the crowded houses of the town and the scattered cottages beyond he went, stopping every so often at some hovel for a visit or a brief greeting; the midsummer roses were out in full glory against the side of one kind old widow's house, and sent him into a state of near rapture as he bid her farewell — he continued on his way in a kind of joyful daze, down along the narrow well-trodden path through the thorns and tangle of the valley. Every late-blooming wildflower of summer turned its face up toward him when he passed. 

The vine growing against the side of the little hut had remembered its training, and was taking well to the pruning, the bishop reflected as he approached, stooping to let himself in through the door. Despite the scarcity of rain, the hardy thing had spread its tendrils further across the wall and flourished in a way characteristic of careful tending and regular watering. Myriel himself had not seen its progress in close to three weeks. He had not meant to stay away so long, and his heart reprimanded him. 

He set the basket down on the dingy little shelf inside and ducked out under the low mantle. The brightness of the afternoon sun made him blink. 

Around the back of the cottage sat the old Conventionnel, eyes closed, among the flowers and the mighty buzzing of the bees. Much like the vine, the flowers were in a better state than might have been expected without Monsieur Myriel's hand to tend them for so long. There must have been some other. He cast his eye over those flowers with quiet awe at their growth in the little bed which he had insisted upon establishing earlier in the year, tooling the ground with his own hands; he'd planted it after the fashion of the jumbled pattern of his garden at home, furnishing the plot with that garden's seeds and cuttings and rejoicing when they took root with vigor. As he watched, a fat bumblebee fell from among the petals she'd nestled in, followed by a shower of pollen — he let out his breath in delight. The Conventionnel's eyes opened, a smile rising to his lips when the bishop came to his side and touched the back of his wrist. 

"My friend," Myriel said, "I am glad you are well." 

G— said nothing, but took his hand. 


End file.
